Chapter Text
‘What the fuck?’ is about the only thought Lucifer is having at the moment.
The bad tickles had stopped for all of a few seconds before those cables had latched onto him.
The power drain had then been, though certainly concerning – using this much of his power means something is certainly happening – it wasn’t necessarily bad for him. . . not the worst, at least.
It’s the electrical feedback that’s causing him a whole hell of a lot of issues and is making it rather hard to keep his form solid, pulling his demonic and angelic features out of him without his permission.
That and all of the moving is nauseating and disorienting as fuck.
But, all in all, not the worst thing that’s happened to him. Not by a long shot.
Of course, then there’s the explosion and the crushing weight of whatever the fuck is on top of him that was making Charlie’s girlfriend so jumpy earlier.
It’s – mercifully or not – not enough to crush through the confines of his angelic metal, trapping ‘box’. . . sphere. . . prison thing so all he gets is a good throw around.
Pro: his feet are both ripped from his restraints allowing him to pull himself onto his knees and out of his ass-over-tea-kettle sprawl from the fray.
Cons: the electrical pulses hit some new heights and his powers seem to like that even less.
How does he know this? Well, he can see loose feathers floating around him and he can feel the telltale twinge in his back that follows a wing being bent in a direction is should not be bent in.
Next on the list: the angelic metal did not break and he is currently still trapped like a little bug in his ‘box.’
Well shit.
This is rather unfortunate.
No one but Charlie’s girlfriend and the radio guy know he’s down here and the only side of that pair he thinks might consider lending him a hand would come down here with the one being he would really rather not see him like this right now.
Charlie. . . she doesn’t need to see him like this.
So out of control.
Which leaves him with absolutely no other option but to get himself out of his little. . . snafu here.
And, hey, the cables are gone and he can’t feel the nauseating pulling on his powers anymore. So, there’s a plus.
Gathering as much power as he dares with this little bit of interference, Lucifer tries to focus it on the least sturdy looking part of the metal to absolutely no avail. He tries again. A third time.
And again when there’s the slightest creak in the air.
But nothing happens. There isn’t even a smudge on the metal to make his considerable efforts tangible.
Panting he lets himself sink slowly down onto the edge of the box, resting his sore muscles – of which seems to be every single one from the tips of his fingers right to his toes – and pauses to look around. To see if maybe he'd missed anything and there's something that might be able to put a crack in some angelic metal.
Rocks, rocks, oh and more rocks.
Yeah. Fat chance.
Indulging himself in a heavy sigh Lucifer pulls himself back up to his knees with a grunt.
The heavy pull of his weight on already straining shoulders is like smacking on an insult to injury, the cuffs still holding his wrists fast.
There’s another soft noise, this time a little bit closer, and he thinks he can see the slightest movement within the rubble at the point he’d been trying to budge.
A shadow.
A crackle or static.
A flash of green.
A crack in the metal.
Just enough the he can pry it back with waves of power.
Another metallic click, this time from right above him and inside his box makes Lucifer jump. But there’s nothing above him.
Scratching his head Lucifer hopes that he doesn’t need to add concussion to his list of problems. He’s never had one before but he’s also never quite been in a situation like this before either so. . . new rules?
Then, “huh?”
Blinking he brings his hands in front of him – yes, hands – and tries to think about when exactly he’d gotten free of the restraints.
Shrugging and assuming that they were probably just weak from the tumble he gets back to work on the tiny crack.
Eventually it’s enough and Lucifer can shove his body through the jagged hole he’s carved. From there it’s just a matter of blasting his way through to a rather convenient hatch.
Pausing to take inventory of himself Lucifer wipes away the worst of the grime and tries to relax into the fold of his wings back out of existence.
It takes three tries.
He gets there though and is hoisting himself out of the rubble.
Mercifully he doesn’t have to wait long before he can finally see Charlie and determine that she’s no worse for wear with his own eyes.
“Don’t go down there! It’s a place of pain. . .”
The little Princess has gone off on another one of her squealing tangents, the snake having finally proven he is still alive. Demons and sinners and all manner of other hell dwellers run rampant around them and he can feel the itch under his skin to move.
Get away.
A tiny fish-like sinner brushes up against his leg and Alastor can feel a twinge in his cheeks. The smile persist on his face, if only to keep the little demons that much farther away, scared.
But there are just so many of them that close calls are inevitable.
Forcing himself to resist the urge to frown he looks back towards the Princess. She has gone quieter, greeting the sinners who swarm her with warm regards and a smile bigger even than his own.
Curiously, someone is absent.
Not the fallen angel, she, as she always is, is glued to the Princess’ side looking a little constipated.
No, what’s missing is the much shorter, other Morningstar that has taken to haunting their fine hotel.
After climbing out of the remains of Vox’s weapon Lucifer had been sticking close to his progeny looking a little worse for wear.
Curiously, now, he is missing.
Looking around once more Alastor scans the crowd, looking for the telltale signs of the so-called king of this place down under – it was always rather hard to find him, being so short and all – and finds nothing.
Interesting.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, a flash of white.
Just a split second, but his eyes don’t deceive him. Very few people in hell wear so much white it’s sickening to see, and one of them is missing.
Smile deepening, Alastor melts into the shadows and slinks around the corner. Just in time he spots another flash of white moving into a tight space between some condemned buildings.
It’s a roundabout route but they’re fleeing in the direction of the hotel.
Ah, most definitely the one he’s looking for, then.
It’s not really that he’s worried about their immortal leader. It’s not like he has the ability to die from wounds inflicted by mere sinners.
But he is curious; why so secretive?
For a man so dedicated and vocal about his support in his daughters’ dreams, he’s leaving so soon after the first sign of said dreams coming to fruition.
Why might that be?
At any rate, it’s sure to be much more interesting than watching the clamour happening around the princess.
Behind the buildings the little snake, as he can now make out, is making its way through a convoluted mess of twists and turns through alleys and hubbub.
Though he is moving quickly, the area is ripe with shadows making it all the easier for Alastor to creep along behind until they’re coming up on the hotel.
Already the lobby is ripe with the spoils of little Charlie’s success, teeming with sinners seeking absolution, the hustle and bustle near deafening. Consequently, every light is on, forcing Alastor out of the shadows and the little snake to shift and scurry out of the way of a stampede.
It’s in this series of unfortunate events that Alastor loses his prey.
No matter.
He will find him again in due time.
As it is now, he slips into his hosting persona, managing the nuances of the hotel.
The chase is much less fun when you’re running around without a clue where your prey has gone.
The chance to continue his adventure comes much sooner than one would think.
It’s only a mere hour later when the little princess finds her way home, carting in a whole new host of sinners, and the party winds down.
With everyone in their rooms for the night the hotel falls quiet once more. Like this, Alastor likes his job best, returning the hotel to its glory in preparation for the day to come.
Lurking in the halls he ensures that all is well, floor by floor, until he is at the top and standing outside the room next to his.
The king’s door is ajar and there’s only the sound of a crash and thump on the other side.
How very interesting.
With hardly a whisper Alastor slides his way in through the shadows and materializes just inside the door.
Much to his greatest delight the king’s eyes are on him in an instant, demonic and fiery.
Once the fire fizzles out, Lucifer finally lays eyes on the bane of his existence.
No longer hiding in his shadows, Alastor steps fully into the room and closes the door with a soft noise. Even with his mind going haywire Lucifer doesn’t risk moving again.
That little burst of power had taken its toll on him. As it turns out, mixing electrical surges with a near complete power drain aren’t two things that mix together well. Since crawling out of the box – bubble? – thing TV head had him in, his powers haven’t been working right.
Small twinges and surges keep flashing through him, pulling at his control and chipping away at his ability to maintain a single form.
The trip back had been. . . exciting.
Evidently, in addition to forcing his body to keep conscious and keep moving, he’s also had an interloper.
“Why are you here?”
The demon’s head cocks, his eyes showing just how much he’s already inferred from Lucifer’s continued crouch.
How much he’s revelling in it, “oh, out ensuring everything is right in the halls when I stumbled upon an open door. Just what did I find but our mighty King sprawled on the floor.”
The crackle in the air is back as the demon starts his approach. It’s slow but the power Alastor is letting off is suffocating. It takes all he has not to pant.
“Whatever could be the matter with our immortal king, hmm?”
Not bothering answering such a leading question Lucifer takes a breath, forcing his feet under him so that he’s standing. Though it doesn’t change how Alastor towers over him, he gains ground.
Though Alastor backs off, the move is a mistake and his vision fuzzes out so much that he nearly topples straight back to the ground in an event much like his earlier tumble that left him right where Alastor had found him.
Blinking he finds he’s still horizontal. . . held up by a hand under his shoulder.
Confusion enters the mix of emotions as he’s guided to the bed by that same hand and Alastor is standing before him again, that aggravating smile persistent as always.
“Wha-?”
“Oh dear. It looks like you’re not as indestructible as they say, your majesty.” There’s considerably less delight in his tone, but his eyes are too sharp on the places where Lucifer is all too aware golden blood stains his clothing. “When you said you would show me sloppy, I didn’t think this would be the context.”
That maddening smile never wavers.
Unbelievably tired and ready for this interaction to be over he doesn’t really think before he talks, “immortal, not indestructible.”
“Oh?”
“What are you doing here, Alastor?”
The smile that had been fading as Lucifer got more and more pathetic – ergo, less and less interesting – is back in full force now and Lucifer bites his lips against the curse at his loose tongue, “so you do know my name, majesty.”
Far be it for the demon to let that slide.
Resisting a sigh Lucifer moves right in to damage control.
“A stroke maybe. Why are you here?”
Alastor just laughs, still not answering. A headache starts tighten at his temples and Lucifer grits his teeth. Alastor will get bored and leave eventually. He just needed to stop talking.
Shouldn’t be too hard when all he wants to do is curl up in the dark and bleed in peace until his body gets the fuck back into order and starts healing and he can do that all on his own, thank you very much.
This electricity bullshit just needed to pass.
Words just keep bubbling up anyway, a nervous tick of sorts the longer Alastor just stands and smiles and looks, “What the fuck are you even doing here, Bambi? What? Can’t pass up this opportunity to see me bleed? Well, I hate to break it to you, you’re not the first one to see me bleed. Won’t be the last either.”
That static filled, rage inducing, chuckle is back as Alastor leans in, bringing them nearly nose to nose, “hardly, though it is rather a delight to see. I’m just wondering at how your state was missed by so many?” that smile widens, clearly getting into the groove of his nitpicking, “why, our dear Charlie girl was standing right beside you, no? How is it your daughter missed such dire wounds?”
If he wasn’t in so much pain that every movement – every breath is agony – Lucifer might have jumped up to defend his daughter louder than this loudspeaker could make assumptions.
It’s not like Charlie doesn’t care. She’s just distracted by her friends. They’re celebrating their victory. As they should be.
There’s no reason to worry her over something like this.
It not like it’s going to kill him.
Certainly nothing a puny little sinner like TV head can muster will ever be enough to kill him.
All he needs are a few days and some peace and he will be right as rain. Good as new. Ready to take on whatever challenges Charlie chooses to face with a smile.
Something as small as her not noticing a few well-placed blows and some nasty side effects is nothing to be concerned about.
The loudspeaker continues, though, unaffected by Lucifer’s raging inner monologue, “far be it for a demon such as myself to judge, but shouldn’t your daughter be a little more concerned for her father’s wellbeing? Or, could it be that she is unaware of just how mortal you are?”
Without any thoughts to the consequences, Lucifer is up and gripping the collar of Alator’s shirt, “watch what you say about Charlie, Bellhop, or I might just forget about her misguided affection toward you. Watch it.”
The words may have held more backbone if he wasn’t already swaying like a leaf in an imaginary wind or his hands were to stop trembling.
Alas, his body isn’t done betraying him because the moment one of Alastor’s hands comes out to steady him another shock flashes over his back and he can feel his wings unfurling to curl around them.